


A world unlike our own

by VioletPG



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-08-09 23:28:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20125615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletPG/pseuds/VioletPG
Summary: Events good and bad can be brought to attention to the strangest of people around the world.When Vincent Afton catches the attention of something which suddenly haunts his dreams he realises there are things he cannot understand. Family deals, souls which start to haunt him and a whole other world directly in front of him...There's a lot which isn't understood... Why is that?A small dive into my own universe which is and has been in development for years. Any questions go to @JenericJunk on instagram.





	A world unlike our own

Police being in an area can make anyone, innocent or not, nervous. Many thoughts through their heads about them, their family, their work. Even if you act calm and collected there will always be that tiny bit of you which dreads the worst. You can't escape it.  
The more they ask the more your hysterical your brain becomes- no matter how much you force it down, it'll soon consume you like the darkness. Now, it's one thing knowing you're the innocent in the situation because you can hold onto your beliefs and judgement of the situation. What if you're the guilty, however?  
Well, that's when the problem appears.  
"I'd like to ask if you have any ideas about the missing children incident which happened in your establishment."  
The dread flows in.  
"Where were you during the hours of 3-3:30?"  
Your blood turns to panic and adrenaline while you force your body to stop shaking.  
"Do you have any idea who the murderer could be?"  
You know you cannot escape the law. Not for long.

A sigh of impatience and a fiddle of the golden star badge gives the detective a ticking time bomb of frustration while the boss continued to give vague answers. Not once did he look up from his desk to greet the officer or to offer her anything. Under the long, purple mullet lay a well known face. A face which belonged to the person known to be way ahead of his time. His and his family's creations well known and praised by thousands.  
A man who's very presence made the officer keep her hand close to her weapon. All it took was one glimpse of his smoke grey eyes for her to lose the rest of her cool.  
"Ma'am, I would recommend you put your weapon away. You don't want a public uproar based on your childish hostility." A smile kept tugging at the corner of his lips, head tilting slightly to the right. The gun slowly went back in its holster while the two never broke eye contact. "Now, Officer?"  
"Smith. Detective Smith" She pulled her polo collar forward, showing a silver pin containing her name. Smith watched as the man's eyes scanned her up and down, shaking off the feeling of his eyes deep in her bones. He gave her a wide grin as if he remembered something funny.  
"Listen, Detective Smith, there are a lot of people jealous of what i can achieve. Like all companies me and the fellow Afton's have made enemies along the way to our success. Now if you think a busy man like myself has any time to keep track of the idiotic generations who have felt any kind of dissatisfaction towards Freddy's, then please show me the way to Oz to meet the wizard." he took a deep breath as he twisted his pencil rhythmically back and forth his fingers, "all over the globe are hundreds or thousands who wish they could do what i do, maybe a few hundred of those can muster up the strength in their pathetic little bodies to pull off something even close to this. I do not need police up my ass all day when i have more important matters to attend to all over the globe!"   
He got up from his desk. With his hand gliding around the edge, he walked around to the front of the desk where his tall figure glared down at the detective. All Smith could do was watch his shoulders for any sudden moves, she couldn't stand the look of his eyes.   
"Are you telling me, Mr Afton, that working some paperwork is more important than five poor lives?"   
Vincent's movements always seemed slow, almost like he was a more advanced version of his own robots which performed down the stairs. He always seemed to calculate every movement before he performed them fluently from the simple tug at his violet blazer to the small walk from his desk to the door littered with pictures, which he opened. He stayed frozen for what seemed like an eternity while his small desk fan seemed to whirr slower than it was at the beginning.   
"I'm telling you, madam Smith, I am no more use to you and therefore cannot help you in your investigation. I do not want any of your squad to talk to me or my employees during work hours when we cannot offer any more assistance," a muscle tugged at the corner of his mouth, "If I find you have disobeyed that, well... I'd leave that up to your imagination. Nothing scares anyone more than the unknown."

Closing up the restaurant was Vincent's favourite part of the job. Apart from either Scott, the manager, or the weird new janitor known as Violet, the whole pizzeria was empty. No screaming children or bothering employees. Due to the front of the pizzeria facing west, the pizzeria on top of a hill and the entrance mostly glass as he shut things down for the day he got a great view of the reds and oranges of the sunset during autumn months.   
An old day coming to an end and a new one coming to a beginning. That's how he saw it.   
"Vinny, I've finished up the orders for tomorrow, pay cheques have been issued for tomorrow and that new batch of metal has been sent to your home." Scott was a tall man, more than a head taller than Vincent- who was already a towering figure to the general population. Unlike Vincent, Scott had a severe lack of any kind of body mass. If someone had made Slenderman a little more proportional that would be his body frame. Black hair spewed crazily all over the place while still looking neat and bright green eyes hiding behind red glasses.   
Scott was the only person who was allowed to call him by his first name, a nickname is almost impossible.   
Vincent simply couldn't take his eyes away from the sunset. In a trance, he walked to the glass doors and rested his hands against it. He felt like a voice was calling his name from somewhere in the back of his mind...  
"Vinny! Are you listening?" The manager placed his hand on his shoulder, breaking him out of his trance.  
Vincent lifted up his hand to ask for silence. "Does the sun look different to you?" It took a couple of glances back and forth from the sun and Vincent to realise he was serious. A wave of concern spread across his face as the hand on his shoulder started to rub reassuringly.   
"Looks the same as it has been for billions of years. Look I know this missing children case has brought a lot of stress upon you-"  
"I don't care about some stupid-"  
"-and some struggles on the business. Take a few days off. You know you can trust me to run this place for a while. Get some sleep, Vinny." He moved his hand from his shoulder and took a step back. Vincent nodded and dumped the keys for the restaurant onto the windowsill, leaving the restaurant without another word with his hands tucked into his pockets. 

Vincent Afton: son of Amelia and William Afton; inherited owner of Afton's Robotics and Freddy Fazbear's Corporation; millions in the bank and a talented engineer. A general first impression described to most as like meeting a gigantic Black Widow who just found you tangled in his web. He always made you feel vulnerable and terrified. He's always walking around with an emotionless body with no obvious sense of fear.   
Well, there was one thing Vincent always found fearful: walking back to his mansion.   
One thing he hated most was memories. He had a constant attempt to keep memories buried deep in the ground locked in multiple safes but when the route home was the same from as long as he could remember there was bound to let some memories bleed out of his control.  
From the pizzeria to the Afton Mansion was around forty minutes through a jogging path in a dense forest where only nature spoke. Despite the forest being close to busy, bustling streets, the forest seemed to soak up any noise from man-made areas. This meant staying on the path was essential if you didn't want to get lost, a small turn in the wrong direction makes your mind and goal cloudy then suddenly you're roaming in aimless circles until you find the path once again.   
He had walked through the exact same forest on his own for so many years that the brainwashing feeling no longer affected him. He knows the woods like the back of his hand. Every carving, every tree trunk, all the good spots to explore wildlife in the trees or under rocks and in rivers. It was his haven from home and work life, however this meant the haven brought unwanted memories. Every memory which resurfaces from his pit makes him feel sick, makes him terrified to go home even as an adult.   
Arriving home gives him further choked up emotions. It was the only place in the world where he felt so small. Leaning his head back to look at the raven wind spinner on top of over a 40 room mansion, looking at every scrape, break and bruise the house has endured for generations, the gardens which merged are much bigger than the mansion, just makes him feel like a pawn.. A small toy in a child's doll house.   
As he opens the secured metal gate much bigger than himself he flinches at the screeching noise as it drags its rusty hinges to Vincent's hands movement. A sense of fear washes over him as he looked around at each of the curtained closed windows for a sign of movement. It made him feel on edge whenever he put his back towards the mansion to close the gates but he felt even worse as he walked towards the arched front door. The doors having swirls and patterns carved into them while the semi-circle glass at top showed its dull colours which were once a vibrant rainbow. When he mustered the courage to unlock the door and open it, he took three brisk steps inside before shutting and locking the door.   
Unlike the forest which had the tranquil voices of nature, the silence in the Afton Mansion had no filling. No birds, no crickets or feral cats... Just silence. Silence like walking home late at night alone, its peaceful, no cars or people around. That doesn't make you relaxed. You're on edge, your ears ringing and straining to find any kind of noise to cling to. You want to look down every alley, every turn and behind you in case you're not being followed. The pressure inside you builds until you are very aware of your breathing and heartbeat. Only you are making the noise.  
That's how it felt everyday in the comfort of his own home...  
Every room has a story Vincent would love to forget. Every room open, closed or simply in plain sight built the pent up emotions from deep inside wherever he walked. Every day in his own home he wasn't the Black Widow, he was the helpless fly.   
He never wanted to spend long in any room. Opening his mental floor plan of his house he looked at his feet as he walked to the kitchen. Forward, left, right, forward, third right. Layers and layers of dust spread across every surface in the house apart the kitchen. The only thing in the room was a few cupboards, a fridge-freezer, a beaten up microwave and oven and a clean toaster. Shoving toast into his trusty toaster he paced around the counter in the middle of the room.  
"It's not like I care for the kids, Toasty... I have to continue the research. You understand that right?" he just looked at the purple toaster as it did its job. Vincent made up his own reply that the toaster would give if it was a living being. "I'm not turning like him! How can you say that? If I can finish this maybe i can finally have peace. Isn't that what you want?"  
After over a minute worth of a grown man talking to a toaster the toast popped out. He just grabbed the two slices and hastily left the room and to his bedroom on the ground floor, crunching his toast as a distraction for any thoughts which may reappear.   
Vincent's room wasn't anything special. It didn't even feel personal, more like a guest bedroom. While any sort of memories were plastered all over the house's rooms, this one was stripped of it. Navy blue walls evenly painted, one round light bulb in the middle of the ceiling, purple and black painted wardrobes shoved into a corner with a large tv beside it, the only window was covered in blackout curtains. A tiny bedside table housed a single cup of water from the en-suite bathroom tap and an old fashioned lamp. The bed was placed evenly in the middle of the furthest wall to the tv, the duvet and pillowcase pure purple and a black mattress cover.   
He didn't want personal items in his sleeping area, he just wanted it to be a mindless area. He dumped his work pants, tie and blazer on the floor, unbuttoning his shirt a little as he sat up in his bed, adding new toast crumbs to the already existing crumbs on his bed. He flicked on the TV to a show on a channel called Food Network. It was the most mindless he could handle as he watched food being eaten, companies being cheated on by employees and that one angry British guy who Vincent can never remember the name of but loves his attitude.   
As it started to get late, he lied down on his bed, keeping his head just propped up enough to watch the programs. Without turning the TV off, he fell asleep.

You know that place in your sleep where you feel both in and out of conscious? The place where you know you're asleep yet you still have that small part of conscious awake that you're aware you can see, feel and hear nothing? That's where Vincent found himself. Only he could see himself. See his hands, his hair over his face, his body. He had that turning in his stomach of falling yet also a feeling of floating.   
There was nothing anywhere, it felt like nothing. Yet everything. There was no light or dark. It was just how it was, nothing.   
Taking a step forward felt no different than when he was awake despite there being no floor to step on. His foot stopped on nothing, but still it stopped. He wasn't breathing, he had no heartbeat, yet he had all of his thoughts. A pressure clutched his chest and squeezed it tight. He felt like he wasn't meant to be here.  
There was a feeling of panic and adrenaline suddenly bombarding his body, like he was being suffocated suddenly even if he wasn't. Nothing felt right about this place...   
Step by step he walked forward, trying to figure out where he was in this place. He felt like he was dreaming but also wide awake. His mind felt empty and stuffed to the brim.  
Something wasn't right...  
When a minute passes in dream, hours pass in real time, only here it felt reversed. Time felt like it was chained by a cannon ball on both legs and having to go a marathon with its hands, like when you watch a clock tick. Only when Vincent started to count as he took more and more steps forward a minute had passed...  
There was nothing here. Yet there felt like there was something attached to the back of his mind, like an annoying mosquito hum.   
"Weird dream this is." Vincent told himself. Despite his expectations there wasn't an echo, which he found disappointing. Eternity was felt as he aimlessly walked around this empty place.  
Until he saw something.   
Despite there being a dark abyss all around him there was something darker standing right in front of him. No real form or figure. A smoke which focused around two spots which never moved.   
We all know the saying 'curiosity killed the cat', despite all warnings from his body to flee, to hide, to do anything but go near whatever it was, he still went closer.   
Those two spots split in half and two eyes opened up, red like rage, yellow like fear, grey like emotionless, blue like sadness. The eyes never stayed one colour but seemingly stayed a somehow darker black. The colour wasn't physically there, yet the colours burnt the back of his eyes, his brain wasn't aware of it yet everything else about him was aware... It was getting to much to handle for Vincent's poor mind that his head ached massively.  
All he could do was close his eyes. Unable to see it, he was aware it was there. He was aware of the smoke being circling him like a shark. And he was aware something was lunging his way.

He felt nothing. No pain, no emotion. Nothing. He felt different yet the same. Hesitantly, he opened his eyes.   
The TV was still blinding the otherwise dark room. He had no sweat like he expected, or any adrenaline. He was just awake. Everything felt exactly the same. Only....  
The Afton Family Mansion is a massive place. There are a lot of visible rooms and even cleverly hidden rooms like a Scooby Doo haunted house. Deep below is a basement full of family and Vincent's inventions, in the attic was full of items deemed not important for the appearance or sentimental value of the house. Acres of a front and back yard housed many wildlife along with the huge forest which made the mansion hidden from the rest of society...  
It's hard to tell the exact radius someone can project their voice.   
Even then, I have a guess acres of land heard Vincent's scream.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for the issues in this story as this is my first time back into writing for a good few years now. Hopefully I'll improve. Thank you for your patience.


End file.
